


Fight Night

by Swedishfish11



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 22:49:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9628694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swedishfish11/pseuds/Swedishfish11
Summary: Set somewhere in Season 2. Sarah needs something to keep her sanity. A return to Beth's house and a dangerous game are just what the doctor ordered. Smut.





	

Sarah couldn’t tell exactly when it had turned into a game. A dangerous one, but what part of their lives wasn’t dangerous these days? In all the paranoia and helplessness that was inherit to being a clone hunted by secret corporations and government entities, this was her guilty pleasure. This indulgence was her treat, perhaps her moment of sanity. “Maybe if Beth had had this too, she wouldn’t have felt so hopeless,” she thought.

Guilt wasn’t part of this arrangement. She couldn’t even entertain the what-ifs. This was about not thinking, just reacting. She opened the sliding door to Beth’s apartment soundlessly. The text had come randomly, as they always did. “Tonight,” was all it had said. Sometimes she was the one to start the cat and mouse. Mrs. S and Fee didn’t ask which loose end she was chasing down whenever she disappeared on these late night solo missions. They just saw how much healthier and relaxed she was the next morning when she’d sneak in before breakfast.

The game had rules. Not set ones, and certainly not ones planned or dissected ahead of time. These were just the way things had always been done, since the first punch was thrown. Were they instinct? Were they that much in tune with each other? 

A creaking floor board let her know that her opponent was also here. “Sloppy,” she thought to herself with a wry smile. She snuck through the kitchen towards the living room. One of the preferred hiding places, she’d come to learn over the past few months. Probably because of their early days, but reminiscing would get her caught. Sarah stole a peak around the sharp corner and saw no movement in the hallway. She balled her fists and felt her muscles begin to sing with the anticipation. The roles were reversed. Instead of the unknown meaning fear and helplessness, it was sweet and cherished. 

She ducked and ran to a crouch behind the sofa. Circling slowly, she felt the stillness of the air. The complete lack of noise gave the room a surreal quality. Mundane traffic noises couldn’t pierce this perfect moment. All the stress blurred to obscurity. Was that a door opening? Could she hear footsteps in the plush carpet or was it her imagination?

Narrowing the field, she inched her way to the mouth of the hallway. She wouldn’t be the one to mess up this time, be caught with her guard down. If she checked the bathroom, her prey could corner her. If she checked the bedroom first, then she was left open to attack from closets, plus it was too cliché to hide there. In her planning, Sarah almost missed the breath behind her. Almost. Shite.

Spinning and crouching at the same time, she batted away the fist that was headed for her ribs. This was heaven. She mostly knocked away the second punch sending it grazing off her hip. Even facing him, it was hard to see his expression, but she knew he was smiling. A jab of her own barely connected with a rock-hard shoulder. They were too close for any real hits. He was so close that she could smell him. As she kicked mildly against her attackers left knee, Sarah Manning laughed aloud. He half knelt to absorb the blow, before coming back with a wide grab that caught her by the hips. The force was just enough to spin her, making her trip on her own foot and begin to fall. Of course, his hand was behind her head supporting her long before she reached the carpeted hall floor. Cradled gently, there was still a hard knee on her chest, not crushing but firm enough to make it known that she was trapped. 

“Did you laugh at me?” Paul asked seconds before crushing his mouth to hers. His knees were now trapping her sides and his calloused hands held her face, the fingers weaving into the hair on the nape of her neck. He had won, but she was winning. She kissed him back with what could only be described as a mix of ferocity and desperation. His chapped lips were making their way over her chin, down her neck, and along her collar bone. She struggled to free her arms, to feel his skin. It didn’t matter where, his back, his arms, she would take a bloody kneecap at the point. 

She’d almost squirmed and pushed his shirt halfway up and off. Catching a bit of shirt and muscled shoulder in her teeth, she started to tug and nip. He’d have a bruise tomorrow. Paul groaned low and soft. She knew he loved when she bit hard. She became aware that as his kisses had moved lower so had the strong thighs that had kept her pinned. She wrestled to a half seating position and dragged his black tshirt the rest of the way off. It forced him to stop kissing and licking his way down her right hip bone to where her jeans lay unbuttoned but in the way. Apparently, this interruption only stoked the fire of their game. 

“I won,” Paul growled as his hands caught her wrists and pinned them gently to her sides. For a moment that seemed to last an hour, their eyes locked with a shared need, a hurt, and an unquenchable hunger. The rasps of their own ragged breathing seemed deafening as she waited for his next move. 

Pulling her wrists high above her head, he released them but she knew to keep them there. With a slowness that could only be reverence, his fingers closed around the hem of her shirt and pulled it off. His knuckles tickled her sides, whispering gently over her ribs as he went. As always, these moments were excruciating pleasure and the most intense torture. She felt the thin fabric of her shirt ride along her arched skin, pass over her sensitive breasts, and when the cold air touched her nipples it was all she could do not to cry out. 

As soon as her head was clear of the shirt, he threw it into the dark room, grabbed her waist and flipped her over. Lying on her stomach with her head cradled on her folded arms, Sarah sighed. The weight of Paul’s body was comforting. She was trapped and yet so unbelievably free. His mouth was on her neck. The hot breath the only traitorous indicator of where his kiss would fall next. Goosebumps broke out, it seemed on her entire body. She shivered with a chill that had nothing to do with the warm summer air. He kissed along her back. Nibbling and licking her shoulders, she just relaxed and let him take his time. While there was always an urgency with Paul, it never felt rushed. 

Her thoughts stopped completely as she felt his hard cock twitch through her jeans. Pressed against her thigh, it was hot and growing impossibly harder. Sarah squirmed her ass up, increasing the pressure and making him hiss at the same time. “Sarah…” Paul said in a tight, almost pleading tone. She was in control, even when pinned and naked, his need to protect and please her gave her the ultimate control. “I need you,” was her only response. 

His hands roughly pulled her jeans and briefs down to gather around her knees. As if moving in coordinated steps, she raised her ass in the air as he brought his hot breath down on the back of her bare thighs. Kissing and licking his way up the sensitive skin of her legs, he nipped once playfully on her bare ass before his warm hand moved between her legs. Propped, holding herself up on her elbows, Sarah felt the aching emptiness of her body in every nerve. Paul slid his hand slowly from her front to her center and back. Working a finger through her lips to rub her already pulsing clit, he tightened his other arm gently around her stomach to keep her from escaping the beautiful torture. His hand moved almost lazily, stroking, and rubbing so gently that it was almost too much.

“Please!” she gasped. There was no pride between them. No egos to worry about, just need. His hand slipped away into the night and his weight lifted but she held the position resolutely. There was the sound of his clothes falling away and the feel of his warm legs kneeling on either side of her own. Sarah held perfectly still as just his tip entered her. It was perfect, and it wasn’t enough. He leaned over her body, capturing one breast in his hand while reaching his other around her hip and underneath her. Fingers danced down her stomach to pry open her lips once again, while her nipple was being so gently pinched and pulled. She tied to push herself back onto him, but Paul knew her, or at least her body. He pulled back himself then teased her clit in slow but firm circles as he pushed just his tip back where he belonged. His arms were shaking and his pained, short breaths told her it was just as hard for him to hold back. It was adrenaline and animal, it was sweet and giving, it was fragile and the strongest feeling they had both ever felt. Sarah played the game, until the heat and the electricity between them had become almost painful.

And then Paul was in her; thrusting slowly at first but they both frantically needed more. Sarah felt her orgasm shatter around her almost instantly. All the fighting and the foreplay had her right on the edge. She came and shuttered and moaned softly as he held her hips up and slowed the pace. She felt her muscles tighten around him making the friction even sweeter. Paul gasped for air but controlled his pace. Her arms rubbed against the carpet while his hands were still working on her tight nipples and now throbbing clit. Sarah noticed Paul was speaking, repeating her name with a softness and sweetness of a devout chant. 

He nudged her to lay further down. He laid his slick and toned chest on her bare back. The angle and pressure inside her changed to hit different aching spots and his thrusts came stronger and faster. His hand moved to lay on top of her hand, his fingers weaving over hers to an almost loving grip. “Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, Come for me again.” Paul said it not as a plea but a demand. She hadn’t noticed the tightness gathering again in her body but at his command it was like her whole world exploded. She rocked back against him while the waves shook through her. He roared and sank into her completely. Everything was a blur; it was paradise. The aftershocks of their orgasms left them paralyzed for what seemed like ages and was still too short. His weight on her was safe, their breathing almost synchronized. She was so tired. She could have fallen asleep right there in the hall, on the floor. 

Paul started to stir. He slid out of her slowly, both groaning in disappointment that the feeling couldn’t last forever. As she rolled over to look at his gorgeous naked body for the thousandth time and wriggle her jeans back up her hips, Paul gave her a look.   
“Did you really laugh at me, even though I completely had the jump on you?” He said with a rare smile, shaking his head and offering her a hand. “I don’t think you are taking this seriously…”  
“Did you really wear cologne to fight night?” was her retort.  
“It worked, didn’t it? You lost your focus.” Paul tossed her shirt to her with a smug grin, struggling with his pants.   
Sarah was already heading for the kitchen to grab the usual post sex beers and snacks. She stopped in her tracks and turned with that familiar look in her eye. The one he would kill for. The one he’d do anything for. The one that he loved.  
“If that’s how you want to play. Just wait for next time.”


End file.
